


Friends in Wet Places

by DraconianScribe



Category: Free!
Genre: Art, Desperate times call for desperate measures, Grinding, M/M, Pool Boy AU, Porn Parody, Sorry Not Sorry, lifestyles of the rich and famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:44:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2322578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraconianScribe/pseuds/DraconianScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"why isnt there a 'spoiled rich kid with a big ass pool!Haru and poor but honest and really hot pool cleaner!Makoto' AU fic like am i the only one who thinks this soap opera scenario would work" -prompt from punkrockthorin</p><p>Rich kid!Haru x pool boy!Makoto, featuring art by dnything. Contains copious amounts of back muscles, eye-fucking, bratty breakdowns, sassy best friend!Rin, overprotective!Sousuke, and the slow, agonising death of logic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends in Wet Places

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on rinrinsamurai.tumblr.com with an accompanying illustration by my partner in crime, dnything. Special thanks to lithodoraentwife for looking this over at such short notice! Please enjoy! :) ...or not. *escapes down the garbage chute*

Illustrated by [dnything](http://dnything.tumblr.com) (click [here](http://rinrinsamurai.tumblr.com/post/97666024510/title-friends-in-wet-places-written) to see the original post)

 

* * *

 

Nanase Haruka had few aspirations in life beyond swimming in his Olympic-sized pool, schooling his incompetent kitchen staff on how to cook a decent plate of mackerel, and sipping his  _Kona Nigari_ water as he contemplated the finer “ass”-thetics of his pool boy. Dreams were for poor people. He was  _living_ the dream, and it didn’t get any better than this.

Who cared about the future when he had everything he needed, right here in front of him?

“Makoto, you missed a few leaves in that corner. Bend over and pick them up for me,” he ordered, lounging on his beach chair with his designer swimsuit on and an umbrella over his head to protect his delicate skin from the afternoon sun. He didn’t exactly tan well. But his pool boy, on the other hand…

“Ha-Haruka-sama,” squeaked the six-foot tower of muscle squirming before him. The pool boy’s ears had gone red and he tugged self-consciously on his bright green Speedo, which Haru  _might_ have purchased a size down and coerced him into wearing. His fidgeting only served to stretch the clingy fabric tighter over the substantial bulge in his front, causing Haru to lick his lips at the thought of running his tongue over it. Makoto clutched the net closer, as if to shield himself from view.

Covering an elephant with a napkin would’ve been more effective.

“I-I d-don’t think I can r-reach them from here,” Makoto stammered, his face flushing deeper with every word.

“Then we'll just have to work on your flexibility,” Haru responded with an evil smirk. “Move three steps to your right and try again.”

“Y-yes, Haruka-sama,” came the resigned whimper. Trembling with apprehension, he stumbled over and hastened to comply.

“Good boy,” Haru leered, appraising every rippling movement of his employee’s back from the safety of his Ray-Bans. “I knew I hired you for a reason.”

He relished the embarrassment that roiled off the pool boy’s quivering, statuesque figure in waves. This was just  _too easy._

Haru allowed himself a few more minutes to admire the way the sun glinted off the hard planes of Makoto’s body as he worked, beads of sweat trickling down his powerful shoulders, which rolled and flexed with every swish of the net. His “uniform” left very little to the imagination, giving Haru a mouth-watering view of the tight, rounded globes of his ass whenever Makoto had to arch down for those  _hard-to-reach_ places.

It was only a matter of time before Haru started to strain his own swimsuit. He’d commissioned these jammers only yesterday from Giorgio Armani himself, and he’d be damned if he ruined the custom streamlined fit before he even got them in the water. Deciding that he’d indulged himself in these distractions long enough, he whipped off his shades and zipped across the deck, ignoring Makoto’s admonishing cries of “Haruka-sama, please –  _don’t run!”_ and swan-diving into the pool.

He breathed out a sigh of relief at the cool embrace that enveloped him. The water surged and whispered through his hair as it drowned out the outside world. This was freedom. This was life. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the stillness.

He lost track of how long he'd been floating underwater when he sensed a subtle shift in the fractured rays of sunlight streaming through the surface. Someone was standing by the edge of the pool. Frowning, he waded towards the disturbance, looking up into gentle green eyes that shone with wonder and adoration.

“You really are the best in the water, Haruka-sama,” Makoto called out to him, holding out one of his ridiculously large hands. Holy mackerel, what he wouldn't give to feel those rough palms and long, strong fingers wrapped around his dick...

“Drop the '-sama,'” Haru muttered, his face heating and his earlier confidence wilting at Makoto’s proximity. Most of his staff had gone home by now, but not Makoto. Makoto was always there when he needed him, and there was no need for such formalities when they were alone. Unless maybe Makoto begged him.

Makoto chuckled and ducked his head apologetically, blissfully unaware of how fiercely Haru was envisioning him naked and spread out on his king-sized bed, his huge cock dripping onto the silken sheets and glistening in the firelight…

It was one thing to check his pool boy out from afar and quite another to realise how  _powerless_ he actually made him feel up close. The beautiful bastard was built like a Herculean sculpture and his soul was like a new-born puppy that ate rainbows and probably shat butterflies. His smile was so bright, it hurt Haru’s eyes. He should be  _illegal._

Haru briefly considered dismissing him for the sake of his health – honestly, he’s never felt more feverish or vulnerable in his entire  _life –_ but that was never going to happen. Still, pool time wasn’t over until Haru said it was.

Haru reached up to take his hand, pausing at how warm and small he felt in Makoto’s strong grip. He might not be a match for him physically, but Haru still had the element of surprise.

With a sharp jerk, he sent Makoto toppling into the pool. He crashed in with a frightened yelp and a glorious, satisfying _splat._

Haru tried not to laugh. He really did. But the sight of “Man Mountain” Makoto, squawking and flailing like some colossal, dying chicken in a waterhole, threatened to break every single one of his ribs with the effort it took to hold it in. Throwing his head back, he burst into a fit of laughter that bubbled up from his gut and shook his entire frame. He crossed his arms, struggling to hold himself together, even as tears leaked from his eyes and his lungs were slowly being crushed and flattened.

He didn’t even notice that the splashing had ceased – not until Makoto was standing beside him, his eyes wide and his mouth parted slightly in shock. He looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to be fascinated or indignant, so Haru made the decision for him. Still feeling high from the unexpected rush of giddiness, he yanked Makoto’s stupidly tall, handsome face down to his level and did what he’d been fantasising about since the moment he hired him. Makoto gave a muffled “mmff!” of surprise, his lips faintly chapped from working in the sun all day. He tasted like a heady mixture of sweat and chlorine, and Haru moaned, slipping his tongue in for more.

Makoto responded with enthusiasm, sucking lightly on his tongue and holding Haru’s hips in place when he tried to rub up against him. Haru shivered from the sheer strength he felt in those large, rough hands and whined in frustration. Nipping at Makoto’s bottom lip, he raked his nails over the hard ridges of Makoto’s back and squeezed his ass with a growl of retaliation. Makoto froze.

“What –  _the fuck –_ do you think you’re doing?” Haru rasped as Makoto abruptly pulled away. Makoto’s entire face was redder than a stoplight and his lips were swollen to match. A string of saliva hung between their panting mouths, and Haru wanted nothing more than to slide their tongues back together and make another. But Makoto was, quite literally, holding him at arm’s length.

“I-I d-don’t think we should be doing this,” Makoto stuttered, avoiding Haru’s glare of disbelief and annoyance.

“Why not?” he snapped. He was Haruka Nanase, heir to a billion-dollar corporation. He was a free spirit. He could do whatever – and  _whoever_ – the fuck he wanted.

“I-if the reporters saw us—”

“I don’t care—”

“But  _I_ do!” Makoto shouted. Haru fell into a stunned silence. No one had ever raised his or her voice at him before. Not his parents. Not his grandmother. Not his tutors. And least of all, not his gentle giant of a pool boy, who was one of the few fixtures in his boring, shallow life that he genuinely looked forward to each day.

Why was this happening? Why now? Why was Makoto pulling away from him?

“Haru, I l-like you,” Makoto blurted out, causing Haru's breath to hitch as all of his vital functions came to a screeching halt. “A-and I th-think you like me too.”  _Then what’s the problem?_ Haru wanted to scream.

“But we can’t do this,” Makoto cried, his voice breaking. “Whether you like it or not, you’re the future of your company. And a lot of people’s jobs are on the line. People like me.”

“So what do we do now?” Haru spat back, the words leaving a bitter and poisonous taste in his mouth. “Act like strangers? You clean my pool, I cut your cheque – is that it?”

He was beginning to regret ever kissing Makoto, or hiring him in the first place. It was a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad decision, but he’d done it anyway. And now he could never take it back.

“Summer’s almost over, Haruka-sama,” Makoto answered softly. “Soon you won’t be needing me anymore.”

Haru wanted to point out that he also had an indoor pool, but even if he didn’t, there were plenty of other things Makoto could “assist” him with that didn’t involve pools at all. He didn’t even have to really  _do_  anything. Haru was perfectly fine with paying him to just stand there and be his own personal man-sculpture. They could work out the logistics later. As long as Makoto was here, everything would be alright. Why couldn’t he see that?

Haru had never really  _needed_ anything, because he’d always had everything he wanted. And right now, Makoto was what he wanted. Makoto was what he  _needed._ He didn't know where this sudden desperation was coming from. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready for this to end, whatever “this” was. Not before it had even begun.

Makoto shook his head and smiled sadly, as if he understood. But he didn’t – not really. Because instead of reassuring him that he wasn’t going anywhere, he said, “Besides, I finally got that scholarship to study at Toudai. I meant to tell you earlier, but I wasn’t sure how. So I guess this is my two weeks’ notice.”

Haru’s breathing slowed as time grinded to a halt and the world tilted in front of him. Suddenly, he was aware of everything – and yet nothing at the same time. He could hear the rustling of the palm trees overhead, the steady drip-drip-drip of cold sweat and something else, something newer and more searing, trailing after it. Makoto’s calls flitted through the breeze, the sound oddly distant and distorted compared to the deafening shatter of his heart as it broke into a thousand tiny, jagged pieces.

_It’s meaningless without you._

 

* * *

 

Following a brief interlude, in which he’d tried to drown himself in his own bathtub to a warbling soundtrack of Italian opera and failed miserably (he was much better at holding his breath than he’d anticipated, and it took way too much effort to wait that long to die), binged on charred mackerel as he sobbed over a dubbed version of  _The Little Mermaid_ in his home theatre (so  _what_ if he actually hated this movie; he’d give up swimming too if that selfish asshole would just agree to being a part of his fucking world already), and fired anyone who dared to approach him, he did what any normal person would do in this situation.

He went to go see his lawyer.

It took roughly seven hours by private jet to fly down to Australia and drive up to the Matsuoka estate in his Toyota Century Royal limousine. Upon his arrival, he was greeted by Rin’s creepy butler, or as Haru liked to refer to him, the “Golem” - a surly, boulder-sized man who was even taller than Makoto and seemed to have a permanent scowl etched onto his face. Haru stared straight back into his ice-cold eyes, refusing to be intimidated, despite the fact that he probably knew six different ways to kill a man using only his pinky finger.

“I’m here to see Rin,” he announced in his most imperious, Nanase tone of voice.

“I was not aware that Master Rin had scheduled any meetings this afternoon,” the Golem replied, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

Haru was about one sassy servant away from a nervous breakdown. He didn’t have time for this shit. “Listen to me, you  _peasant,”_ he growled up into the Golem's smug, ugly face. “If you don’t bring Rin to me  _this instant,_ I swear to God, I will  _punch_ you in the shoulder—”

“Oi, Sousuke, what’s taking so long?” Rin called, poking his head out from the entryway. The moment he saw Haru, Rin’s confused frown transformed immediately into an excited grin, causing his bodyguard to take a reluctant step back.

 _You may have won this time,_ rumbled the stone-cold expression on the Golem's face.  _But I still won't acknowledge you._

If looks could kill, Haru would already be swimming in a pool of his own blood and suffering from multiple stab wounds.

“HARU!” Rin practically squealed, hurling himself at him with the force of a hurricane. “What’s up? I haven’t seen you since you hired that new pool boy! Been  _busy,_  have you? AHAHAHAHA—”

He halted mid-cackle as Haru tensed beside him. “What’s the matter? Had a little lovers' spat with your boy toy?"

“I don't want to talk about it,” he muttered, because he  _did,_ in fact, not want to talk about it. He'd rather internally rage, scream, and cry about it instead. Maybe even all three at the same time.

“Oh, shit, you fucked him, didn't you?" Rin guffawed. Then, he gasped. "Or maybe you  _didn't,_ and that's why you're so mad—”

Haru marched straight past him and into the mansion, not in the mood for Rin's teasing and wild conjectures.

Unfortunately, that was only the beginning. For such a sharp and talented individual, Rin certainly lacked a sense of self-preservation. He kept up the interrogation, dodging every piece of food and furniture Haru threw at him while continuing to invade Haru's personal space. Haru's ears prickled with an endless barrage of penis jokes, useless advice ("You should try the pools here in Australia! I'm telling you, they'll change your life!"), and dramatised retellings of similar situations he's been in with his butler. Although Haru had to admit that Rin's storytelling could be quite amusing, he clearly didn't understand the concept of  _too much information._ Rin’s housekeeper had long since fled the scene, and Haru had lost track of how many times the Golem had burst into the reception room with a loaded shotgun, under the impression that Haru was assaulting his employer. Which Haru technically was, but Rin was enjoying himself far too much to actually feel threatened.

Once the Golem had sulked off and Rin had finished wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes, the two of them were finally able to discuss things rationally. Well,  _more_ rationally.

“He’s lying. He  _has_ to be,” Haru reasoned. Makoto was poor. Poor people needed money. And  _he_ had money.

Suddenly, Haru gasped.  _That was it!_ Makoto must feel insecure about how rich and famous Haru was compared to him. Come to think of it, he’d mentioned something along those exact lines during their argument. He didn’t think he was good enough for Haru, and if it were anyone else, Haru would’ve agreed, but this was  _Makoto._ Makoto was so saintly, sweet, and goddamn  _stupid_ that it had probably never occurred to him that Haru wanted him for more than just his “services.”

Makoto wasn’t  _actually_ going away to Toudai. He just wanted Haru to  _think_ that. He was likely holed up in his little commoner’s shack and crying himself to sleep at this very moment, the FOOL. Haru let out a tiny giggle at this ingenious revelation. It was nothing but a simple misunderstanding. All he had to do was find out where he lived, detain and smack some sense into him, and Makoto would be grovelling at his feet in no time—

“You said the guy’s name was Makoto?” Rin asked, looking up from Makoto’s employment contract, which Haru had  _insisted_ that he examine.

“Yes,” Haru huffed, irked by the interruption to his _planning._ Hadn’t he mentioned that already?

“I think I met him last week while doing a guest lecture at Toudai. Said he was on one of those campus tours and that he’d been offered a full ride. Bit surprised, to be honest. Didn’t seem like the type. Kid was freaking  _huge._  Brown hair, green eyes. Smiles like one of those chubby angel babies you'd see in a church. Not sure if he’s the same guy, but then again, how many guys do you meet who are named Makoto?” Rin sniggered, as if something as trivial as a  _name_  could possibly be funny at a time like this.

Haru lunged across the marble tabletop, his hands at Rin’s throat. “WHAT –  _THE FUCK –_ WAS HE DOING – TALKING TO  _YOU?”_ he snarled, spit flying into Rin’s face as he throttled him. “HE WORKS FOR  _ME!_ I OWN HIM! HE’S  _MY_  POOL BOY!  _MINE! MY OWN!_ MY—”

“—precious?” Rin supplied helpfully.

Haru couldn’t take it anymore. Before he even realised what he was doing, he’d smashed his fist straight past Rin’s head and directly into the back of his diamond-encrusted chair, where it landed with a sickening crack.

“HARU! Shit,” Rin cursed as Haru crumpled onto the ground and whimpered pathetically. “Ai!  _AI!_ Get your ass in here and help him!”

Rin’s housekeeper re-entered with a frightened squeak, bandaging Haru’s hand with trembling fingers. Haru tried to shoo the pest away, but Rin refused to acknowledge his protests. It didn’t even hurt.

Not as much as Makoto’s betrayal did, anyway.

“D-do you th-think that if I was n-nicer to him, he would’ve st-stayed?” Haru choked out between shuddering sobs.

“Haru, listen to me," Rin urged, his tone now serious. "You're in the bargaining stage of the Kübler-Ross model right now. Next is going to be depression. You need to get a hold of yourself. Think about swimming—”

“I don't  _want_ to swim! I WANT  _MAKOTO!"_  Haru wailed, burying himself in despair and rolling over into foetal position, where he would remain for the foreseeable future. There was no point in going on.

“Oh, you've  _got_  to kidding me," Rin groaned. “You're not even 20 years old! You have your whole life in front of you! He's just one pool boy—”

Haru bolted upright. “He’s not  _just_ a pool boy,” he hissed. “His name is  _Makoto,_ and he is so  _beautiful,_ it disgusts me! When he smiles, even  _blind_  people can see it! You’d have to be a bigger idiot than he is not to love him, and I don’t care if he’s going to Toudai or the fucking  _moon,_ he  _belongs_  with me!”

Rin snorted. “Then why aren’t you telling  _him_ that instead of me?”

 

* * *

 

The next day, Haru staggered onto the deck of his pool, jet-lagged and twitchy, but still very much alive, thanks to the newly drafted employment contract he now held in his hand. He was still wearing the same swimsuit he had on yesterday, which was probably gross and unhealthy, but seeing as he had more  _pressing_ issues to attend to at the moment, he could hardly bring himself to care.

“Ma-ko-to,” he panted, practically crawling towards him.

The net fell to the ground with a clatter as Makoto rushed to steady him. “Haruka-sama, what—”

“TAKE IT! Quick!” Haru rasped, clawing to his feet and flinging the contract at his unsuspecting pool boy.

Makoto yelped and flinched as the bounded scroll flew towards him and slapped against his distractingly chiselled chest. Fumbling, he clutched it to him and peeped, “W-what’s this?”

“You did a horrible job yesterday, leaving me  _unsatisfied,_ so you’re fired,” Haru declared. “This is your new contract.”

Makoto slowly unravelled the roll of parchment, his brilliant green eyes now dull with incomprehension. He held it closer to his face, squinting at the tiny script.

Haru wondered if Makoto wore glasses. He fought to keep a characteristic, straight face as his dick went rigid at the thought.  _Fuck._ He should've told Rin to add "tutoring services" to the agreement...

Suddenly, Makoto  _jumped,_ burning bright red and dropping the sheet of paper as if it were on fire. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled, breathy squeak.

 _“Well?”_ Haru demanded.

“Ha-Haru,” he whispered urgently, hands flapping like a distraught goose and eyes darting wildly back and forth, as if afraid that someone might be watching.  _“This is a marriage contract!”_

“So?” Haru snapped, failing to see the problem. “This way, we’ll be equals. You can stay here and still go to stupid Toudai if you want to. My parents won’t be able to marry me off, and if the stockholders see that I can commit to marriage, then they'll know that I can commit to running the business too!” Why was Makoto looking at him so incredulously?  _He_ was the crazy one if he couldn’t see how  _obvious_ this solution was!

 _“This is illegal,”_ Makoto gasped, looking as if he were about to faint.

“Only in Japan,” Haru argued. “We can go to Vegas.”

 _“We can’t just go to Vegas!”_ Makoto shrieked. “We – we need passports! And visas! And  _things!”_

“Give me a few hours and I’ll have them.”

“My English is terrible! I don’t even know how to ask for the washroom!”

“Rin can translate for us. He said he'll be at the wedding anyway."

“Oh, my God,  _this isn’t happening!_ Wake up, Tachibana Makoto,  _wake up!”_

But Haru had finally had enough. He did not survive through three months of sexual tension and flying all the way to fucking Australia and back to give up now. Haru widened his stance and pounced, taking them both down in a thudding tangle of limbs.

“Just – for –  _once,”_ Haru growled, straddling his prey and seizing his bewildered face with both hands, “shut – the –  _fuck_ – up!”

Then, he went for the kill, making  _dead sure_ that Makoto wouldn’t be able to say a single word without Haru’s tongue in his mouth.

Makoto struggled at first, using his strong hands to grasp at Haru’s hips and try to pry him off. But Haru wasn’t fooled. If Makoto  _really_ wanted Haru to stop rubbing himself all over his crotch, he could easily flip them over and hold Haru down without even breaking a sweat. The thought sent a delicious chill down Haru’s spine, causing his cock to stiffen and his hips to jerk down harder. Makoto moaned into his mouth, and soon, Haru’s tongue was twisted in his as Makoto’s fingers tightened their grip on his waist. Haru could feel him, hot and hard, on the verge of tearing straight through the flimsy cloth. Makoto's thrusts were beginning to brush dangerously close to his hole, which merely twitched and clenched in response.

Overwhelmed by the need to feel Makoto's dick, thick and pulsing inside of him, he slipped his hand underneath Makoto's Speedo, but was knocked breathless as Makoto lifted him up and shoved him back down on top of his sticky, barely covered cock. Oh,  _God,_ the sweat – the friction – Makoto’s deep, husky grunts as he repeatedly slid Haru up and over his trapped and swollen erection. He was going to  _burst._

 _“Ah!”_ Haru cried. “Yes! Makoto,  _Makoto, yes, right there!”_

Haru keened as Makoto obeyed and grinded their shafts together so hard, he could feel them throbbing and leaking through their swimsuits. Their kisses grew increasingly wet and sloppy, Haru's mouth watering at how  _big_ Makoto's cock really was. He wanted to trace its outline with his tongue and mark it with his teeth. He wanted to know what it tasted like, how it’d feel to stretch his lips over the tip and give it a nice, deep  _suck—_

“Ha- _Haru!”_ Makoto moaned. Haru looked down and felt as if he were falling into the dark, endless depths of his eyes, the shimmering emerald now glazed over with lust and longing. He bit his lip and whined, helpless to do anything but ride out the bruising pace as his heart pounded with every slam of their hips. “Haruka," Makoto murmured, causing Haru to cry out from the dizzying pressure that tightened his sac. "You feel so good. You're so, so  _pretty—”_

Haru jolted at his words, a high-pitched sob escaping from the back of his throat as he threw his head back and came so hard, he completely  _ruined_ his swimsuit and fainted for a good ten seconds while Makoto slotted himself into the rut of Haru's ass and joined him.

That didn’t last  _nearly_ as long as he would’ve liked, but he thought he’d give himself some credit, since it was his first sort-of-real fuck. In any case, he thought as he licked his lips and gazed down possessively at Makoto’s spent form, it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

“So where do we go from here?” Makoto asked, his voice breathless and rough, but his eyes alight with a soft glow that made Haru just want to melt into his skin and be a part of him forever.

“You missed a few leaves that flew into my bedroom,” he suggested. “Bend over and pick them up for me?”

Makoto blinked. Then, he laughed – a joyous, sudden burst of noise, as if the laughter was startled out of him – and Haru felt a tingling rush of triumph at the realisation that  _he_ was the cause.

All his life, people were always telling him to  _do_ things. To make something of himself. Because life was short. But Haru knew better. Life wasn’t short at all. It was the longest thing there was, and it was full of days of waiting for something to happen, days when the things that do happen are all twisted and wrong, and days where nothing happens at all.

But lying here with Makoto, beside a dirty pool, dehydrated, and without a scrap of mackerel in sight, was the only time Haru wished it were longer.


End file.
